Grey Lights
by SilentMidnightSunlight
Summary: A teenage Sherlock broken by eating disorders, Homophobic slurs, an abusive father, PTSD, and his need for drugs leans only on his drunken boyfriend. But recently even Seb is starting to scare the dark haired teen.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

John, sighed puffing out his cheeks staring once again at the map in his hand. Dorm B for some unknown reason was not next to dorm A and he now had no clue how to find his room. He squinted at the paper and looked at the buildings surrounding him. He didn't see a resemblance to the paper. Where was he?

Great! His first day at a new school and he was already hopelessly lost!

He glared again at the paper in his hands paying particular attention to the name scrawled atop his paper He was far too irritated to scoff at the ridiculous name of his future roommate. William Sherlock Scott Vernet Holmes.

If he could ever find his bloody dorm!

The short youth pushed an angry hand through his dark blond hair. There were several students walking around but all of seem to preoccupied and far too busy to take notice of the flustered blond. And John Hamish Watson was not one to inconvenience anyone.

With a short huff of breath he straightened his posture and set resonantly off along the sidewalk pulling the blue plastic bin full of his things behind him. He should have taken up the lady's offer of getting someone to show him around… What had her name been? Mrs Hudson! She had been nice but John of course had insisted he could find his own way. Stupid. He was so busy fuming to himself he didn't notice the young woman in front of him until he had practically trampled her into the pavement and sent the both of them flying to the ground in a heap.

"Sorry, so sorry! Are you alright?" He scrambled to his feet offering a hand to a rather plain looking girl who seemed at a lost for words. In a sudden burst of energy she shot up ignoring his hand and started breathlessly gushing her own apologies. "Oh I'm sorry are you okay?" She straightened her green blouse and met his eyes. "Oh, right, yes, er- I'm fine… are you?" "Yes" she answered quickly.

"John Watson," he tucked his papers under one arm and held out a hand. The girl tucked a strand of mousy brown hair behind her ear before shaking his hand briefly yet firmly. "Molly Hooper" "Right" John groaned inwardly he was rubbish at this. Asking people for things was not his area. Suck it up.

"I was wondering, If you knew where I could find the boy's dorm B? Or maybe a bloke called William Sherlock Scott Vernet Holmes." He read carefully from his paper unsure of which of the five names the boy would be known as.

Honestly how many names did one guy need?

"Sherlock?" She squeaked "do you know him?" The look on her face practically screamed that she had a crush on his future dorm mate. Guess that was normal enough and slightly reassuring. Molly seemed like a nice girl and if she liked the bloke he couldn't be all that bad.

"Not yet" he confessed the curiosity got the better of him "What's he like?" The glow of excitement dimmed slightly. She seemed almost apprehensive to describe the student. "Oh… he is brilliant!" She twisted a stand of hair around her finger. " He doesn't initiate conversations often. You could try the library he will probably be there or in the dorm. He's a bit hard to talk to you know, sort of just zones out." Her eye brightened. "But he is a genius! He can figure out anything." John nodded his head thoughtfully as Molly continued to give him directions.

"It's just past the canteen on the right." "Cheers" "Nice meeting you!" John nodded his head shortly and gave her a polite smile as he walked in the direction she had indicated.

He stopped in front of the brick building that looked identical to every other dorm he had passed. The large iron B above the door imposed upon his mind.

He steeled himself annoyed at his cartwheeling stomach. Honestly you would have thought he was about to meet the queen the way his nerves were playing up. You are being stupid. Just because the bloke has the most ridiculously posh name I have ever heard doesn't mean he won't be perfectly normal. Of course he would be normal why shouldn't he be? John chuckled to himself picturing a perfectly average bloke casually studying or texting up in their room without the slightest idea that his future dorm mate was stressing on the cement below. Of course Molly's words echoed in his mind hard to talk to… that would be fine if the boy decided to keep to himself John wasn't going to press an issue.

John pulled his plastic bin silently through the relatively quite third floor hallway. The soft sounds or conversation, music and laughter seeped out from under a few doors. Most were silent he was after all here early classes didn't start for another week and a half.

221 he mouthed to himself eyes scanning over each of the neatly painted numbers on the doors.

217, 219, 221! He stopped in front of the door straining his ears for a sign that his dorm mate was present. The room was silent. He raised a fist to knock. Should he knock? It was after all his room as much as the other boy's. He would knock, just this once to be polite. That settled he gave a sharp military knock learned from his father. No sound came from inside. Perhaps the other boy was out on the grounds or was in the library? Mrs. Hudson had told him the boy had already gotten back from the summer holidays so John new he wasn't the first to arrive. With a shrug he unlocked the door with his key and pushed open the door. His jaw dropped to the floor. Had the dorm been robbed?

There was a bed on either side of the door with a chest for clothes beside each one a desk stood at the end of the room every surface piled dangerously high with papers, charts bits of technology, books and a somewhat haphazardly placed microscope. Every inch of the walls were covered in pictures papers and hand written notes. Glass boxed filled with bugs pinned inside and even a bat leaned against the left wall. The items were pinned, glued, taped and driven to the wall with knives in a couple cases. Stacks of boxes filled with only god new what covered a great deal of floor space. A small television and sofa sat in the alcove to the right and rather tiny kitchen consisting of a fridge sink and microwave had the appearance of a mad scientist's lab. A door in by the tv lead to what he assumed to be the toilet. A rather morbid yellowed human skull starred accusingly at him from a sagging overladen bookshelf. It looked like the room had been ransacked.

It wasn't until he moved to pull a box form his bin onto the one bare bed that he noticed a slim young man sitting motionless on the bed to the left. He was beautiful. The boy didn't move a muscle his eyes were closed under black brows and lashes. A unruly pile of glossy black curls shone startlingly dark against the otherwise colourless boy. Palms pressed together, dark jeans scrunched up to his black long sleeves T-shirt, fingertips just brushing his motionless cupid's bow lips. His nose was rather thin and long and his cheekbone higher and sharper than should be natural it a sort of alien like affect. With those cheekbones and hair he looked like he had just jumped off the front of one of the shop magazines. No wonder Molly liked him, But then he looked closer his interest in medicine showing, the boy wasn't simply slim he was skinny, extremely skinny, unhealthly so. The alabaster skin was paler than should be possible the eyelids were quite still and he began to grow quite concerned. Was this stranger even breathing?

"Er- Hello?"

As if in response to his thought a low gasp for breath slipped passed the curly haired boy's lips His eyes shot open. They were silver? no, blue? Green? Whichever colour they were they were pricing as if he had seen through John. The eyes unfocused in disinterest. Pulling his hands apart he vaulted himself off the bed so violently John was sure he would pitch into the opposite wall. Instead the boy grabbed John's hand from his side wrapping skeletal fingers around his own warm calloused hand in a firm grip and in the most flat emotionless voice John had ever heard pronounced. "Sherlock Holmes, pleasure to meet you John." And turned to seize a book from the top of one of the boxes.

Brilliant his dorm mate was either mental or - wait had he said John? How did he know his name?

"Er— yes, John Watson" he gasped watching in amazement as the boy hung himself upside down on the bed frame like a bat and proceeded to read the book in hand. There was no response. He glanced at once of the photos on the wall and blanched. A woman with a bashed in head stared back at him. "Um, Sherlock?" No response. "Sherlock?" He asked more firmly. The boy rolled off the bed landing on his feet neatly and walking to stand by John. He had no regard to personal space, standing only a few centimetres from him. He was quite tall at least a head above John's shorter frame and smelled faintly of fabric softener, cigarette smoke something slightly chemical and something acrid a bit like sick?

"What's this?" He gestured at the photograph grimacing at the morbidness. "A dead body." was the reply. John looked sharply up at the boy. He wasn't joking he realised. This strange young man was deadpan serious. "I can see that, why is she on the wall?" With a noncommittal shrug the pale skinned boy turned back to the nest of paper and sheets that was a bed. "Oi!" John had enough. "I'm not sure I want a dead woman on the wall" "It's just a picture!" He whinged "yeah well I don't want it above my bed so take down the bloody thing!" "Your bed?" The boy practically whirled around. His eyes sharpened scanned over him in a instant "Oh quite, you are my dorm mate." It wasn't a question. "I wasn't expecting you for another 4.32 days." "I came early," 4.32 what the h—? "I see" His voice was soft, quite deep, and posh.

In a sudden burst of energy the boy leapt to attention quickly hooking his thumbs through the holes his had cut into the sleeves in a frantic manner. Had John seen? He put a hand on his head as if trying to flatten the unruly mass of curls. The youth thrust out a hand a roll of bills closed between two extended fingers. "Would you get me a cup of tea from the machine downstairs." The voice was now commanding, clipped, yet still unmistakably posh. John stared at him in shock. "Excuse me?" "Oh get yourself something while your at it." The pale boy remarked eyes drilling into his face. Without realising what it was he was doing John found himself walking down the hallway bills clutched in hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Both hands grasping hot cups of tea John kicked at the door. "Sherlock open up" The machine downstairs had been out of order and he a feeling the young man had known that. Unwilling to return empty handed he had walked over to another building in order to retrieve the drinks. A loud thud sound from inside the room followed by a sharp curse of pain and frantic rustling of papers. "Sherlock? You alright?" The door wrenched open with such sudden violence that John felt forced to take a step back.

The skinny youth was panting heavily, dark fluffy hair had fallen into his eyes and he had made no move to move it. A thin gold chain that John hadn't noticed before hung from his shirt a plain band hung from it. Sherlock slowed his breathing straightened his shirt, tucking the chain within his shirt and stepped to allow the smaller teenager entrance. John nearly dropped the tea. The entire right half of the room was immaculate, all the papers on the walls moved the boxes pushed to the left even the curtain on the right side of the window was hanging neatly (the left side was wrapped strangely around a mannequin arm) Sherlock was busy taping all the papers from the right side of the room over the ones on the left.

Right…? John sat the two cups down and laid the excess money on the desk. He glanced sideways at his dorm mate. The thin teen was stretched to his full height standing on one of the filing boxes in order to clamber on top of the bookshelf. John could clearly see the bone structure of the thin body through his shirt the boy had to be ill. John looked around the room uncertainty before picking up one of the boxes marked 1871-1875 he placed it against the wall next to one marked 1876-1880.

"Um- Sherlock?" The boy didn't respond. "Sherlock!" _Was this going to become a thing?_ He turned slightly wobbly from his perch on bookshelf. "What is all this?" John held up another box 1921-1925 written neatly in marker on the front. "Research" "On what?" John asked dazed. _What could possibly be so fascinating? _"Murder" The blond nearly dropped the box. "Murder-?" He felt his brow scrunch up in a mixture of horror and fascination. "Mostly, also cartels, gangs, bombings…ra— " a look off discomfort settled on the features momentarily. John dismissed the falter. "Oh! and some chemistry, music and mathematics as well." The tall youth leapt to the floor and held out his arms for the box "But all of those are clearly marked" John shook his head and turned to the case on his bed. "Afghanistan or Iraq?" "What?" He turned quickly. "I do hate to repeat myself." The would be model sighed, face settling into a perfect pout. "You're father before he died, Afghanistan or Iraq?" John blinked. "Iraq- who told—?" "No one told me." "The how did you— actually no never mind you wouldn't answer anyway." there was an akward silence where the two roommates simply stared at each other. "Dog tags." Unconsciously John raised his fingers to the chains beneath his jumper. "They could be my grandfather's…" "No, you're not from a close knit family, the stiffness when I got close to you makes that obvious, besides you hold yourself straight, make eye contact and walk with military gait something you are far more likely to pick up from someone who raised you. You're sentimental about your father's death now but when he was around you avoided him probably because he was alcoholic your older sibling has the same problem, the drinking probably a brother judging by your mobile. You play rugby because you're good at it and want to fit in even though you don't particularly enjoy the game. You would much rather focus your time on biology seeing as you want to be a doctor, military doctor if I'm not mistaken, which I rarely am. You are here on a scholarship which means you must be at least relatively clever. "

_How the heck—? _

The curly haired teen sucked in a breath cursing mentally. _Stupid stupid stupid. There went any chance of a semi-decent school year. John was sure to hate him now. The blond rugby player was well equipped to beat him if he wanted and now had a reason to. _Sherlock pulled his bottom lip in-between his teeth nervously waiting for John Watson to push him away and tell him to—

"That was amazing…" John breathed staring at the youth in-front of him. Sherlock's eyebrows twitched, lips parting slightly in apparent surprise. He had been sure as soon as he started talking the he would ruin any chance of John Watson liking him. "Really?" "Yes it was quite extraordinary" He hadn't heard wrong. _How fascinating perhaps—? _"That's not what people normally say…" "What do they normally say?" _Curiosity? Good_. "Piss off" when the last two words left his mouth the last thing he expected was for John to laugh. And for him to join him. The pair of teenagers gasped for breath laughing outrageously. John collapsing onto his bed with Sherlock clinging to the side of the bookshelf.

John was laughing and so was his strange room mate. He smiled hearing the deep chuckling laughter getting the feeling not many things made Sherlock Holmes laugh.

A ginger headed boy in the hallway dropped his mobile in shock. _That Freak was laughing! And someone was laughing in there with him._ He scooped up the piece of technology backing away from the closed door before dashing in the opposite direction, Moran wouldn't believe it


End file.
